In retrospect, Calexico's choice of Bartender's Bible for an opening band was a bit odd.  Musically, the two acts have very little in common.  Well, except maybe for a love of Calexico.  But I remember thinking when they took the stage, "Exactly what part of Appalachia did these guys amble in from?"  (I later found out they're from San Diego...shows how much I know.)  They were a funny-looking mix though and you couldn't really tell from looking at them what they were going to sound like.  Their frontman and bassist both sported 50s garb and slicked back hair, looking like they just stepped out of a scene from Rumble Fish, which had me thinking they might do a rockabilly thing.  Turned out they were there to play pure, down home country music, which suited me just fine.  Right off the bat they sounded good.
 
Their somewhat reluctant frontman was clearly the heart of the band, with a quiet yet strong presence at center stage and a no-frills, Jeff Tweedy-like vocal delivery that found range when needed.  He also played a weathered acoustic guitar.  He shared the vocal duties with a blonde-haired backup singer who, as the band's lone female, brought a nice dose of gentleness to the mix.  A sweet-looking girl, she usually turned to face her partner when she sang, and more often than not he responded in kind, harmonizing nicely with her.  When she wasn't singing, she swayed gently to the music and appeared to delight in watching the boys play, with a warm smile that rarely left her face. 
 
On either side of the stage were two amiable guys who shared lead electric guitar duties while occasionally switching to organ, steel guitar and banjo.  One step back was the bass player, who bowed an old upright that looked as though it had been on the road a few too many times and had the scars to prove it, but nonetheless sounded great.  On drums, playing what looked like a house kit that consisted of no more than a bass, snare, high-hat and lone ride cymbal was a wild-eyed and scraggly-haired character who looked like part of the Manson Family...no offense of course.  Drummers are a funny bunch.  Some are shy timekeepers who it seems can't push their drumset far enough back into the darkest corner of the stage, while others look like they'd rather be standing in the main spotlight getting all the attention.  BB's drummer struck me as one of the latter.  He handled the percussion well, milking his tiny kit for all the sound it could make.  But he was also an unofficial backup singer, energetically doing the verses and chorus to nearly every song.  He had no mike, but that didn't stop him.  He just shouted the words up into the air, where they were immediately shot down by the Belly Up's sound system.  It was fun to watch.
 
Last but not least, was "saw man".  Every couple of numbers, this odd-looking fellow would amble his way on stage, carrying a plastic milk crate and beer bottle in one hand, a wood-cutting saw in the other.  He would plop down at the front of the stage, bend the blade over his knee and run a bow across the back edge.  At first glance I couldn't help but laugh a little - it looked like a gimmick.  But it became immediately clear he was for real.  He played the thing beautifully, creating an eery sound that fell somewhere between kazoo and pan flute, but more haunting than either.  He matched the singer's pitch perfectly on more than one occasion.  When he wasn't playing he sometimes laid the saw flat across his knee and used the business end of his bow to tap along with the beat (while joining the drummer in song for good measure).  Midway through the show he took the quirkiness one step further with the addition of a pair of thick-rimmed, white plastic sunglasses that he probably plucked off the rack at a local Rite-Aid.   I kid you not.  I have no idea who he was, he seemed to be guesting with the band.  Whoever he was he was a talented character.
 
As for the songs (nearly half of which, strangely, seemed to be about cocaine) they stuck mostly to familiar musical territory as opposed to blazing new trails.  It reminded me of the sort of honest and straightforward approach to country that put people like Kris Kristofferson on the map - songwriting in its simplest form, set it to a simple rhythm.  And it works.  But as much as they evoked the spirit of country's past, this was no tribute act.  Bartender's Bible are clearly motivated by the pure desire to play from the heart.  Even if they were a tad out of place with the hipster-laden crowd that had come to see Calexico, it was clear by the end of their set that they had won most of them over.  Probably because they didn't try to.